Chapter XVII: Sporting Novels (continued)

"Handley Cross" is another of the sporting novels so admirably illustrated by Leech. The hero of this book is a certain Mr. Jorrocks, a retired "great city grocer of the old school." A fortune gained in the grocery business enabled Mr. Jorrocks to retire into country life, where the sports of the field awaited him. He became a mighty hunter, the possessor of the finest horses and "the best pack of 'ounds in all the world," who would make the foxes cry "Capevi!" He is M.F.H., and so great an authority on sporting matters as to warrant his announcing himself as a lecturer on the duties of all concerned in the truly British sport of the chasing of the fox. Mr. Jorrocks's antecedents were such as to preclude the possibility of the display of brilliant oratorical powers. His mode of expression--including the absence of the letter "h," where it should be used, and its presence where it should not--was what might have been expected from the retired grocer whose little figure adorns the illustration.

Leech's old friend, Mr. Adams, tells me that a man named Nicholls, Lady Louise Clinton's coachman, was the model for Mr. Jorrocks. Leech never went anywhere, not even to church, without his little sketch-book; and on a special Sunday at Barkway Church, where Lady Clinton had her pew, she was followed by a little man who, after handing her ladyship her books of devotion, took his seat outside the pew, and became an unconscious study for Leech; who in a few minutes transferred an exact likeness to the sketch-book, which was afterwards as exactly reproduced in the "hunting lecture."

A curious reader can study Mr. Jorrocks's lecture in the pages of "Handley Cross." He will there wonder with me how it came about, that so distinguished an audience of aristocratic men, and lovely women, could listen for many minutes to an oration which must have lasted at least two hours, and which ends with the following peroration: "So shall little Spooney jog on rejoicin'! Each succeedin' year shall find him better mounted, and at each fresh deal he will become a wiser and I 'opes a nappier man."

Mr. Jorrocks concluded amidst loud and universal applause.

Leech's mastery of character--unexaggerated, true to nature, without a trace of caricature--can be seen in the foreground figures of this etching. The man standing behind the lady with the lovely profile is a gentleman, though perhaps not a wise one; but what can the beautiful profile find in Mr. Jorrocks's discourse to amuse or enlighten her? And those pretty creatures in the distance, who certainly seem a little bored, how is it that they did not slip away with their cavaliers behind them, and so leave Mr. Jorrocks to talk about 'unting to 'is 'eart's content?

One of Mr. Jorrocks's sporting friends is Mr. Charley Stobbs, a good-looking young gentleman who finds himself belated after a hard day's hunting. He wanders about an unknown country, darkness comes upon him, and he endeavours in vain to find his way to Handley Cross. "The night was drear and dark, the wind whistled and howled with uncommon keenness, the cutting hail drifted with the sharpness of needles against his face. Horse and rider were equally dispirited," says the chronicler. This free and easy, or, rather uneasy, fox-hunter, determined to seek shelter for the night at the first house he came to, that promised from its appearance a comfortable bed, with, perhaps, an introductory supper. He soon found himself "under the lee of a large house, and having dismounted, and broken his shins against a scraper, he at length discovered a bell-pull in the door-post, which having sounded, the echoing notes from afar proclaimed the size and importance of the mansion." "A little maiden" gave Charley admission, and, with surprising alacrity, provided him with "ham sandwiches, hot water, lemon, nutmeg," etc., to say nothing of a bottle of sherry!

To the common mind the ease with which Mr. Charles Stobbs managed to procure for himself a supper and lodging in a stranger's mansion will be a matter of surprise; in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he would have met with a very different reception. We rejoice in his success, because it gives us a likeness of his good-looking self, in conjunction with that of one of the prettiest and daintiest waiting-maids ever created by Leech's pencil.

Had I been permitted I should have selected a drawing from "Handley Cross," which heads a chapter called "The Waning Season," not from its subject (which has little interest), but because it is an admirable example of Leech's mastery of landscape. The figure of the old hedger, with his big gauntlets and bill-hook, is as true as possible to nature, well drawn, and perfect in action, as he stoops over the faggots he has collected; but I would call more attention to the drawing of the foreground and distance of the landscape; the stunted tree and the wattled fence in its perspective cunningly going off almost to the horizon--thus leading the eye into space--with its lines so skilfully broken by the leafless trees. The sky, too, though represented by a few lines, composes artistically with the forms in the distance and the rest of the wintry landscape.

With "Ask Mamma"--another of the many sporting books illustrated by Leech--I shall close my selections from that kind of literature for the present.

In the frontispiece of the book, which represents "The Ancestors of our Hero," the female ancestor is such a bewitching creature as to make a reproduction of her in this place irresistible. This charming person is Mrs. William Pringle, _née_ Willing, about whose birth, parentage, and education history is silent. Her acquaintance is first made by the reader of "Ask Mamma" in the position of assistant in a milliner's shop, which she soon left for a shop of her own. In this venture Miss Willing failed disastrously, and, leaving dressmaking, she became a lady's-maid in the service of "the beautiful, newly-married Countess Delacey." "It was to the service of the Countess Delacey," says our author, "that Miss Willing was indebted for becoming the wife of Mr. William Pringle." The acquaintance between Miss Willing and Mr. Pringle, which soon ripened into love and marriage, began on the stage-coach, in which Miss Willing was journeying to London to buy dresses for her mistress, the Countess. Alas! it must be confessed that Miss Willing was an unscrupulous adventuress, and Mr. Pringle a very green goose indeed; for when he found Miss Willing installed in the Countess's house in Grosvenor Square, dressed in her mistress's emerald-green velvet costume, he believed her to be, as she represented herself, the mistress of the mansion. A big footman played into Miss Willing's hand, and "my lady'd" her to her heart's content, and to the delight of Mr. Pringle, as the refreshments were supplied to which the victim had been invited. Under the inspiring influence of brandy-and-water Mr. Pringle's love grew apace; and in reply to the lady's prudent inquiries as to his means of keeping her surrounded by the luxury to which she had been accustomed, she was assured that "she should have everything she wanted: a tall footman with good legs, an Arab horse, an Erard harp, a royal pianoforte, a silver tea-urn, a gold coffee pot, a service of gold, _eat gold_ if she liked;" and, as he made this declaration, "he dropped upon his salmon-coloured knees, and with his glass of brandy in one hand and hers in the other, looked imploring up at her--a beautiful specimen of heavy sentimentality."

As one looks at the comical figure of Mr. Pringle, it would be difficult to believe that, even with the golden advantages with which he surrounds himself, he could be rendered acceptable to the lovely creature of Leech's fancy; if a finger could not be put upon couples amongst our own acquaintances even more strangely contrasted.

With respect to personal appearance, Mr. Pringle fares better at Leech's hands in a drawing representing a halt in the stage-coach journey to London. The passengers have stopped for refreshment. The coachman attends for his fee. Mr. Pringle, "who was bent upon doing the magnificent, produced a large green-and-gold tasselled purse, almost as big as a stocking, and drew therefrom a great five-shilling piece, which he handed ostentatiously to the man, saying: 'For this lady and me,' just as if she belonged to him."

Here Mr. Pringle fairly resembles a good-looking buck of sixty years ago, and the coachman might have been one of those whom I remember on my own first journey to London, with his "Beg pardon, sir, I've drove you fifty miles," when his fee was less than he expected. The coat of many capes, the red cheeks and redder nose, the action of the man as he holds his hat and whip, are all true to life; here again without the least exaggeration. In composition, light and shade, and general effect, this drawing leaves nothing to wish for. The expression of Miss Willing, as she looks sideways at her victim, should be noted.

Mr. William Pringle did not long enjoy his married life, for his only son (the hero of "Ask Mamma") was but a child, when, "after an inordinate kidney supper, Mr. Pringle was found dead in his chair."

The widow was very rich, and after educating her son regardless of expense, she launched him into high life, and somehow or other brought about an acquaintance between "Billy" and a sporting nobleman, the Earl of Ladythorne. From that time "Ask Mamma" becomes a chronicle of sporting adventure, with which I shall not trouble my reader, beyond the explanation required for the understanding of one or two examples of Leech's work.

The noble Earl of Ladythorne seems to have been a very impressionable personage, in a constant state of suffering from "Cupid's shafts"; and though for some reason or other he objected to hunting ladies, an "equestrian coquette, Miss De Glancey, of half the watering-places in England, and some on the Continent," had but to show herself amongst the field and the noble lord was again transfixed; this time the dart seems to have gone through and through the tender heart, only to be released by an event which occurred shortly afterwards.

It appears that Miss De Glancey's love of hunting was affected, in order to further her designs upon the Earl; she really feared and hated it; and though on the fatal day, which was destined to extinguish her hope of becoming a Countess, she had ridden boldly by the Earl through what he calls "a monstrous fine run," she "found no fun in it at all," and was "monstrous glad when it was over." No sooner was the fox despatched, than the sky darkened, the lightning flashed, the thunder bellowed, and the rain came down in torrents. "Poor Miss De Glancey," says our author, "was ready to sink into the earth." There was nothing for it but to seek the nearest shelter, which seems to have been the Punch Bowl at Rockbeer, in search of which "my lord" and the coquette ride off together. "An opportune flash of lightning so lit up the landscape as to show the clump of large elms at the entrance to Rockbeer." The hard driving rain beats downways and sideways, frontways and backways--all ways at once. The horses know not which way to duck to evade the storm. In less than a minute Miss De Glancey is as drenched as if she had taken a shower-bath. "The smart hat and feather are annihilated; the dubious frizette falls out; down comes the hair; the _bella-donna_-inspired radiance of her eyes is quenched; the crinoline and wadding dissolve like ice before the fire; and ere _the love-cured Earl_ lifts her off her horse at the Punch Bowl at Rockbeer, she has no more shape or figure than an icicle. Indeed, she much resembles one, for the cold sleet, freezing as it fell, has encrusted her in a rich coat of iced lace, causing her saturated garments to cling to her with the utmost pertinacity. A more complete wreck of a belle was perhaps never seen."

"Brief as woman's love," says Shakspeare. That this remark will sometimes apply to man's love cannot be contested, for have we not an example before us in the rapid way in which our noble friend's passion was, so to speak, washed out of him? The love-stricken Earl "cured" by a shower of rain! We ought to be thankful for the downpour, for it was the cause of Leech's drawing, in which the unfortunate coquette is still, under the artist's tender treatment, an elegant creature, with grace and beauty in every line of her bedraggled form. How admirable, too, is the Earl! the rain dripping from the brim of his hat, and with every opportunity for making him ridiculous, he is still dignified, his face and figure noble, as he bends forward to meet the storm. It goes without saying that the horses are admirable in character and action, and that the whole scene exactly realizes a wet and stormy night.